The truth within

Derek‘s day had started so well, he considered as he approached the rail of the bridge, breakfast with his wife after three rounds of bare skin greco Roman wrestling, before the drive to the office where it had all suddenly fallen apart. Being met by the FBI armed with a search warrant, a missing business partner and empty bank accounts was not how he envisioned his day going at all. After four hours of relentless questions about off shore shell companies, money laundering schemes and sketchy cartel like characters Derek was broken, Derek was broke, and Derek was tired, tired of striving to be crushed under the waves.

Of course all of this would have been tolerable had Nicole, Derek’s wife had not left a note on the kitchen bench that simply said “Gone with Geoff... Sorry” Geoff of course being the subject of a certain FBI investigation that was currently unresolved. Which is how Derek came to be climbing the rail of the Golden Gate Bridge, with all intentions of not returning.

Derek standing on the wrong side of the cold rail with an Icy wind lashing at his collar could not stop himself wondering about the little black book next to his foot, it had dislodged as he climbed into position. Reaching down gingerly, ironically so as to not fall off the bridge, he picked up the little black book and wondered if a predecessor in futility had left it as a fair well note. Derek opened the book the page said “tomorrow is a better day”, Derek turned the page and the words “the world needs your light” almost jumped off the page at him. Derek sombrely climbed back to safety, much to the disgust of the millennial eagerly trying to capture the moment for his social profile.

Derek wandered off turning another page “race one, number ten”, The next page was blank, in fact the rest of the book was blank. Derek shook his head and tossed the little black book toward the trash can, it rimmed and fell to the ground, Derek had a life to recover and no time for carefully yet well planted life saving notebooks.

John, enjoyed his life mostly, ok so life on the street could be harsh, but he had no one nagging him or expecting him to hop through hoops like a performing monkey. Today his journey had brought him to the car park of the Golden Gate Bridge, tourists left such good pickings in the trash cans. John’s foot struck the little black book and sent it skipping across the pavement, pulling a half eaten hotdog from the can John walked over and picked up the little black book, opening it he read the words “always look both ways”. Taking a bite of his freshly caught wild hotdog he turned the page ”36,2,9,12,21,9”. John had never been known to look a gift horse in the mouth, crammed the little black book into his pocket and the remaining wild caught hotdog into his mouth John headed to the store to buy himself some lottery numbers.

Four weeks later, John closed the door on his Washington street house opposite Lafayette Park, where he had slept on many occasions and been removed from by the authorities on just as many occasions. Walking up Laguna in his new clothes John thought how lucky his little black book had been those numbers, a gift from the gods, had set him up for life. John pulled the little black book out of his pocket as he stepped into Broadway, the little black book bounced down the pavement, John did not, neither did the bus.

The little girl with the white dress with blue lilies could not see what all the panic was about, she could just hear the crowd in front of the bus. Gwen bent down and picked up the little black book that was in the kerb near her shiny blue shoes. Gwen opened her new little black book on the page the words “say no to the man in the red car”.